


For Your Sake I Will Succeed

by The Red Room (TheRedRoom)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Argentina National Team, French National Team, Friendship, Gen, Internal Monologue, this one is a bit dramatic, world cup 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 19:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8222480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedRoom/pseuds/The%20Red%20Room
Summary: It is the Russia 2018 World Cup finals, Argentina versus France. Fate lies in the hands of Gonzalo Higuain, playing for the country where he was raised against the country where he was born. Will he make up for three consecutive lost finals, or will he fail once more?





	

The Russian sun which bore little heat was just setting upon the stadium in which the World Cup finals was held. The noise was defeating and could be heard from across the city as two national teams, Argentina and France, battled and intense battle on the field.

Not with weapons and soldiers, of course, but with athletes and a ball which they fought over, hoping to pierce the enemy lines to get to the goal beyond. Fighting as if their lives were on the line, the players poured every bit of their sweat and tears for the honour of their countries.

The score was 1-1. Argentina had lead early on with a chip from Messi, but Payet had scored a last minute equaliser, bringing the match into extra time.

Minute 119. Everyone was exhausted and growing increasingly desperate. Chances were far and few in between.

Higuain knew that he probably shouldn't be playing. However, it was fate that called him back one more time to the National Team, even when he had numerously refused to return. With Di Maria and Dybala injured, and with Icardi completely unable to deliver, Argentina was putting all last desperate hope into him.

He who had already betrayed the country's hope three times in a row.

He who caused his captain so much despair.

Higuain knew, and now, the memories from those three years came back. All the hate and abuse that his teammates endured from their own countrymen, it all came back to him, for a fraction of a second.

He pushed it all away. If he dwelt on the past, it was bound to repeat.

With a beautiful assist from Messi, the ball soared in the air, past a row of defenders. This was it, Argentina's last chance. And if he fumbled, he would never be forgiven, and the weight of the loss would rest on his shoulders.

So Higuain ran forward. He dribbled, past the last defender, and now he was one on one with the goalkeeper.

And then, he kicked the ball.

High it soared, across the field and landed all the way near Argentina's goal. The Argentinian players stared in disbelief, too shocked to move. The French took advantage of this, and Benzema blasted the ball into the goal.

But there was no cheering. The stadium had grown oddly silent as the score changed to 2-1, minute 120.

"H-how could you?" whispered Messi, falling to his knees in shock.

Higuain pulled off his jersey, revealing the French National Team kit underneath. A collective gasp resonated around the stadium.

"La Pulga," he sneered, "Thought I was your friend, didn't you?"

Messi shook his head. "Don't say something like that. It's not funny..."

The striker laughed maniacally at the tears that now shone in his teammate's eyes. "Remember how at first I said I wouldn't play for any national team because I couldn't choose between France and Argentina? You were the one who gave me an idea, Leo. You chose to play for the country of your birth instead of the country that had given you everything."

"Piguain, you traitor!" Agüero yelled. "Was this your keikaku all along!?" Keikaku, by the way, means "plan." He rushed toward the man who had betrayed them. But just as he was about to attack, Higuain pulled out an AK-47 assault rifle from his shorts and shot him in the chest.

"Die, you fucking weeaboo," said Higuain. "'Sergio-kun Agüero?' That shit ain't kawaii."

"Sergio-kun!" screamed Messi, who was now splattered in blood. He crawled over to where his best friend lay on the pitch and gathered Agüero in his arms. Tears ran down his cheeks. "Please, d-don't leave me..."

But Agüero did not respond. He was dead.

"Filthy weeb. Anime is stupid, and grown-ass men who still watch cartoons should kill themselves."

Payet and Benzema also pulled out their assault rifles and mowed down the other Argentinian players. One by one, they all fell to the ground lifelessly. All except for the captain who was left to cradle Agüero's lifeless body, no longer aware of his surroundings.

Higuain held the AK-47 to Messi's head. The shorter man did not react; instead, he just stared blankly as tears continued to flow. "O Captain, my Captain," sighed Higuain. He pulled the trigger.

The single shot rang out, and a silence overtook the stadium. Then...

"Well done, Argentina, well done. HOWEVER," announced FIFA's newly elected president, Shiekh Ahmed Masuur Dumbledore, from Saudi Arabia. He clapped twice. "Congratulations on winning the World Cup, France! ALLAHU ACKBAR!"

The audience burst into wild cheering. Rui Patricio was offered the Golden Glove, while Higauin was given the Golden Boot. He happily stood with the French National Team when they lifted the tournament trophy in its golden glory. They smothered him with hugs and kisses, as he was one of their own. It was a victorious day for Europe. They had kept the South Americans at bay once again.

**Author's Note:**

> Keikaku means plan.


End file.
